BeBop Season Three: Sessions 27 to 39
by Shadowsage Hopesong
Summary: Rated for language. This is my first published fic... Yes, it spoils the ending of the series. On indefinate hold until I get the notebooks with this fic in them back. Ja! ^_~
1. Session 27: Prelude of Today

Standard Disclaimers:  
  
No, I do not own Spike or any member of the BeBop crew and cast. even though I'm sure many people wish we did. Sorry, I'm a penniless high- school-student. Don't sue me, I don't have a bank account worth cleaning.  
Author's Preface:  
  
I started this fanfic not long after a friend 'spoiled' the ending of the series for me. I was quite happy with it- until I saw the last episode myself. So, while I do not think my beginning fits the ending of Session 26, I give humbly to you my first attempt at a cowboy bebop fanfic ever. Please, do read and review, but try not to flame me too badly. Please be nice! I have three completed chapters.  
  
If I get reviews, I will continue the plot line, elsewise, this will be left an unfinished ballad from an overactive imagination.  
Session 27: Prelude of Today  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike Spiegel is not here, But in the hearts and minds Of those who remember him  
  
Rest In Peace, Space Cowboy  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A single red rose rested on the grave, as a stranger in a long black trenchcoat walked away.  
  
"This is twice, Spike. Do you really expect me to believe it this time around? Besides, you are getting too good at wearing impenetrable masks. ".I wonder if you will like discovering you are still alive."  
  
The figure shook its head as it reached the graveyard gate.  
  
"See you, space cowboy.."  
  
A smile.  
  
"How many lives do you have left, anyway?"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike opened his eyes and saw the ceiling of the BeBop- wreathed in cigarette smoke. With a groan, he closed them.  
  
"Jet, why am I not six feet under?"  
  
"Because you're too damn strong to die, and too damn bratty to care."  
  
"I could use a cigarette."  
  
"They're bad for your health, you know."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Big Shot flicked onto the TV- two people who looked like a caucasian Punch and Black Judy popped their faces onto the screen.  
  
"Well hello all you bounty hunters, let's see what's on the menu today."  
  
"Ooh, it's a big one this time, the call is for a woman named Alia Minstrel. She's worth a whopping six hundred million woolongs!"  
  
"You could buy a lot of ships for that! Unfortunately, we have absolutely no more information on her."  
  
"Sorry, but good luck!"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Wonderful. They found out I'm still alive."  
  
Faye looked sideways at the woman seated next to her. A long black trenchcoat hid most of the stranger's features, and just when Faye was about to say something, the barkeep walked over.  
  
"What do I owe you, Keith?"  
  
"It's on the house today, Allie. Go ahead and use the back door, and try not to get nailed by a bounty hunter."  
  
Allie nodded and stood.  
  
"I owe you one."  
  
Faye followed her out the back door into an ally.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A soft click and the cold touch of steel to the back of her neck caused Allie to stop.  
  
"I guess I'm just lucky the damn bounty isn't an alive or dead one yet. What do you want, bounty hunter?"  
  
Faye smiled.  
  
"Why, the nice fat juicy bounty on your head."  
  
A nod, and Allie's voice took on an amused tone.  
  
"There is a reason it is so high."  
  
Faye shrugged.  
  
"Whadja do?"  
  
Faye blinked- anf her own gun was facing her, Allie's voice whispering in her ear.  
  
"It is not what I did specifically, but who I was and who I am. Don't try to come after me again, or you will regret it."  
  
Faye turned and found only an empty street behind her.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Spike-person awake! Ed found information on Alia-bounty on Ed's tomato!"  
  
Spike blinked, while Jet gave Ed an amused look, in a 'fatherly' sort of way.  
  
"What did you find?" Jet asked.  
  
"Alia-bounty has other names. Alia-bounty was once Talia Minstrel. Talia- person was a assassin like Spike-person was."  
  
Spike blinked, getting the oddest feeling of deja'vu.  
  
"What else did you find, Ed?"  
  
She pouted.  
  
"That's all Edward could find. Oh, and that Alia-bounty is on Mars."  
  
A door opened.  
  
"Faye-faye!"  
  
Ed bounced over to the 79 17-year-old.  
  
"I met Alia Minstrel. She got away."  
  
Spike snorted.  
  
"That's proof you just can't keep a bounty-head, Faye. What's she look like?"  
  
Faye shrugged as she began to fume.  
  
"Aside from a black trenchcoat? Dark brown hair. She stole my gun!"  
  
Jet blinked in startlement when he saw they had an audio-only incoming call.  
  
"Is this the ship with the owner of a PL-20390 Special?"  
  
"Gimme back my gun, Minstrel!"  
  
Faye shouted into the comm., causing everyone else to wince at her volume.  
  
The calm, softspoken reply made Spike blink in shocked surprise. Oh yes. He knew that voice.  
  
"My name is not Minstrel, bounty hunter. Take the seat at the far right corner of the bar named Luck's Folly and order a Samantha. Don't look for me, like the shadows in which I hide, you won't know I'm there until I want to be seen. You have one hour, or lose the 390 special. The choice is yours."  
  
Click.  
  
The audio connection went silent.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Spike got up after Faye left and put out his cigarette, heading for the door to the hangar.  
  
"Spike, you-"  
  
Mismatched brown eyes gave Jet a Look, which Jet matched with a glare of his own.  
  
"Oooh, fine! But don't blame me if you go and get yourself killed."  
  
It was the wrong thing to say.  
  
"Maybe I'd rather die in a blaze of gunfire than sick and in a bed, Jet."  
  
Spike stalked off with a limp, his carefully bandaged middle throbbing.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"What can I get for you, miss?"  
  
Faye recognized Keith from before. This was the same bar?  
  
"A Samantha."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"She said you'd be here. We go too far back for me to turn her in for some damn bounty on her head, no matter how high. Take the back corner booth."  
  
Following directions, Faye found herself in the worst-lit booth in the entire place. A voice from across the table startled her, a purposeful movement in the dim light just now making her aware that she was not alone at the table.  
  
"Do not try to catch me. Here is the gun you 'dropped' in the alley."  
  
"Can I ask you what your name is?"  
  
Silence, then-  
  
"You can ask, but I will not answer."  
  
Opening her mouth again, she was cut off.  
  
"Got your gun back yet, Faye?"  
  
Spike grinned as he casually leaned against the wall. Before Faye could answer, he soft voice from the audio message earlier spoke from the shadowed figure.  
  
"Spike. You are lucky. They think you are really dead this time. I was never so fortunate. Let me give you a recommendation about that six hundred million bounty-head. Do not go after it. It is a very dangerous one."  
  
The shadowed stranger stood up with a grace that surpassed a dancer's, seeming to take the shadows with her as she moved. Deep mahogany hair hid her face.  
  
"See you, space cowboy. Try not to waste whatever is left of your nine lives, ok?"  
  
With that, she was gone.  
  
Spike slowly sat down, his expression unreadable as his eyes went unfocused, seeing a past he alone knew.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Faye began to reach for him, when Jet's voice called from across the room.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
Jet joined them at the table, as Spike's yes refocused on the present.  
  
"Hey, Spike, don't go scaring me like that again, you looked like you did before you went off to 'see if you were really alive'. Are you alright?"  
  
Spike smiled quietly.  
  
"Of course I'm alright Jet. How dangerous could it be to tail Faye?"  
  
Keith, the barkeep, caught the trio's attention by gently tapping on their table.  
  
"Please, either order drinks or leave. I need the booths for paying customers."  
  
They stood, and left. The entire walk back to the Bebop, Spike drifted in memories of a time long ago, when he was a teenager. 


	2. Session 28: Rhapsody of Dragons

Author's Notes:  
  
Ok, I tend to skip around time periods, and this fic is sort of an origins one, but also a continuation of the regular plot line.. With a twist.  
  
Disclaimer for this chapter: I do not officially own some of the songs I insert, and will mark them with a *#.  
  
Session 28: Rhapsody of Dragons  
  
Mao Yenrai smiled as he pushed open the double-doors to the empty ballroom, Spike and Vicious at his heels.  
  
Both boys were taken aback by the lone figure standing by an unshaded window halfway down the room, looking out. It was a girl. lean, not skinny, and as she turned and began to walk in their direction, she moved with a careless, easy, sinuous grace- the kind that only masterful acrobats, professional dancers (of both kinds), and a very few weaponsmasters had. She bowed lightly and informally to Mao.  
  
"You asked me to come?"  
  
Her tone was inquisitive, and implied that she could have as easily not obeyed the request and suffered no repercussions of denying the leader of the Red Dragons.  
  
Mao motioned Spike and Vicious up, earning a raised eyebrow from the girl.  
  
"I don't teach amateurs anymore, Mao. I've told you that."  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Please, as a personal favor to me, at least look them over."  
  
She sighed, sapphire gaze appraising Spike and Vicious, who looked very, very confused- as well as highly offended at being called amateurs- and the total lack of respect for Mao.  
  
Mao looked at her, pleadingly.  
  
She sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Oh, very well. Because I know I'd never get an end to those puppy-dog looks you always give me. I'm not promising anything, but I'll give them a fair trial."  
  
Mao opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.  
  
"I'm only doing this because they have some potential, and you pay well. Mark, though, I do you no favors. I'll meet them here tomorrow. They need a week's worth of clothes, and nothing else. You know the drill by now."  
  
Both Spike and Vicious were getting more and more irritated at this *GIRL* as time passed..  
  
"What's the price this time?"  
  
Mao's calm question startled the boys.  
  
"The usual thing, with double the woolongs and a favor to be named later."  
  
"Done, the money will be in your account by the end of the hour."  
  
She raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Well well, so you've come up in the world since I last saw you. And as usual, it is a pleasure doing business with you, Mao-chan."  
  
(a/n: CHAN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?)  
  
S & V looked at each other in shock, as Mao warmly took the offered hand.  
  
"The same to you, Sensei. You will always be a welcome guest here so long as I have a say in the matter."  
  
She nodded with a quiet smile.  
  
"I'd not want to stretch what little hospitality I get. What are the names of these two amateurs I'm supposed to teach?"  
  
"Spike and Vicious. Ariga-"  
  
"Don't thank me, Mao."  
  
He nodded.  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Mao again led the boys to the ballroom, a good number of whispers following them, all seeming to concern the girl they were going to meet.  
  
"I heard *she's* back at Yenrai-sama's request."  
  
"He pulled some serious strings with the other Dragons, because she's so damned dangerous."  
  
"Yenrai-sama had better know what he brought in here."  
  
"Her file says she works for the ISSP!"  
  
"She's back! Last time repairs alone cost close to a hundred thousand woolongs."  
  
"At least this time she's not a prisoner. God forbid they put chains and handcuffs on her."  
  
At that last one, Spike and Vicious looked at each other.  
  
The door opened, and they saw the woman from the other day in the middle of a martial arts kata, snuffing candles with almost-invisible hand motions.  
  
In that moment, Spike learned just how frightening the sound of a closing door could be.  
  
She finished, and turned to face Mao, a disapproving look on her face.  
  
"You're late."  
  
She then turned her piercing dark emerald gaze on Spike and Vicious, respectively speaking to each.  
  
"You're scared, and you think you're better than me."  
  
She nodded to Mao, then looked back at the boys.  
  
"I have no truly proper name, but so long as you are with me, you may call me Tris when not in training. In all other circumstances, I am sensei to both of you. Understood?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow at Mao as the pair nodded carefully.  
  
"I'll try to take it a little easy this time, Mao. I can already see that you picked good ones, for amateurs, this time."  
  
She nodded to Mao, and walked past all three of them.  
  
"Follow me, boys. See ya later, Mao-chan."  
  
Mao smiled at the backs of the departing figures, commenting more to himself than anyone else (since the person he would be talking to is out of vocal range) he smiled.  
  
"Hai. Keep on flying, rogue vagabond."  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Spike froze when he realized exactly which ship on the roof of the Syndicate's building they were heading towards- and the parking place it occupied. This particular ship was in the spot Mao had claimed for himself a long time ago, the spot nobody else had ever used for fear of punishment. He had seen this ship on a few occasions before, and had admired it from a good distance. It was a sleek, high-gloss-finished black-and-silver masterpiece that looked like it could easily outpace even the much smaller racing craft. Tris was leading them directly for it.  
  
She spoke as she walked, not bothering to turn and look at the two people she was addressing.  
  
"Spike, Vicious, get used to a ship being home. You'll be living with me in my home for a while."  
  
She climbed a ladder that had seemingly appeared from nowhere in her sleek, long, high-slit dress, turning on the top rung to lean her back against the ship. A breeze whipped by then, blowing enough to her dress away from the visible leg to reveal a black garter- that secured a small gun against the inside of her thigh.  
  
Her sharp gaze focused on Vicious's crow.  
  
"One warning. If either of you so much as scratches the paint on my ship, it comes out of your hide first, then out of your personal woolongs to fix it. I repeat: this ship is my home. Do not hurt it in any way shape or form or you will answer for it."  
  
She turned, and placed her palm on a silver square near her waist, and a hatch suddenly appeared directly before her in the seamless side of the ship. She stepped off the ladder, and inside.  
  
Spike and Vicious followed, the latter's crow latching quite firmly to the side of the door while he climbed the ladder, talons squeaking as the crow shifted its grip a few times.  
  
Tris had stopped exactly seven paces into the ship, waiting.  
  
"One more thing I may have forgotten to mention. Neither of you is allowed to keep any pets whatsoever on my ship. Especially if those pets do not walk on four legs."  
  
She turned, eyes alighting on the crow.  
  
As beautiful as those emerald eyes could be. they were cold enough to freeze glacier ice.  
  
She pointed at the crow as it fluttered to Vicious's shoulder.  
  
"You."  
  
She pointed at the open door.  
  
"Scat."  
  
The bird smirked at her; Vicious just gave a condescending look. The bird let its white crap loose, spattering the grated floor and a section of piping below. It caws mockingly.  
  
The next thing anyone knew, the crow was a good number of yards away from the ship, having trouble breathing with a few cracked ribs, and struggling to regain equilibrium before it could fall to the ground.  
  
Vicious slid his eyes sideways.  
  
Tris's fist occupied the space the crow once did, as she briefly stood nose- to-nose with Vicious.  
  
"You. Will. Clean. That. Bird. Shit. Up."  
  
The crow regained equilibrium, and began to head back for the ship. Tris stepped past Vicious and palmed the hatch closed. A loud bang told them the crow was a very unfortunate bird. Tris closed her eyes and exhaled very slowly.  
  
Her back to them, she spoke in a quiet, too-calm monotone.  
  
"I have three rules on this ship. Break them at your own risk."  
  
She held up a gloved hand, index finger up.  
  
"One. I am the master of this ship. I make the rules, and you are expected to obey any and all orders I give without question."  
  
Her middle finger joined the index one as she rotated her wrist once.  
  
"Two. No food of any kind leaves the kitchen galley. This includes anything you brought with you."  
  
Her ring finger joined the other two.  
  
"Three. Respect a closed door. I have few actual locks here, as I rarely have guests. Once you are a recognized member of my crew, there will be only a few places you cannot go. If a door is closed, leave it be unless you have my express permission to use that particular room at your leisure."  
  
She turned on a heel and met each of the two boy's eyes.  
  
"Am I perfectly clear?"  
  
Spike nodded, a little wide-eyed, but Vicious showed no reaction.  
  
"Answer the question, little boy."  
  
He smirked.  
  
"Yes, little girl."  
  
She took the one step to Vicious, and slapped him. Hard. His cheek instantly turned red.  
  
"Do. Not. Patronize. Me. On. My. Ship."  
  
Her glare would freeze a volcano mid-eruption.  
  
"Ever."  
  
She turned a softer look on Spike.  
  
"This way, and I'll get you settled in and prep the ship to accept new members in the system."  
  
She reached the top of a short stair, and paused to look over her shoulder ay Vicious.  
  
"Clean up that bird shit before you join us, and then I will take you to the part of the engine you need to clean."  
  
A mechanical hand placed a bucket filled with soapy water in front of Vicious.  
  
Tris gestured up the hallway for Spike.  
  
"Your room is the third on the left, Spike. Feel free to use whatever's in there. I'll knock in a half hour or so. If there's anything else you want or need to get comfortable, give a call, I'll pick it up on the ship's intercom."  
  
Spike followed the directions to his room, and after placing his bag on the bed, looked around. A sink, a closet stocked with hangars and sheets and towels, a desk, and a three-foot-square six-foot-tall shower graced two sides of the room. Very generous on a spaceship. Opening his duffel bag, he began to put clothes and such away, and basically settle in.  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
Vicious snorted at the bucket of water and headed for the steps. His foot hit the first stair, and the next thing he knew, he was flat on his back more than a few feet away, hair standing straight up. He blinked, wondering how he could have gotten shocked through rubber-soled boots. Tris's voice called from down the hallway.  
  
"Oh, before I forget, Vicious. Don't try to skip out on your chore; you will get a nasty shock."  
  
He stood up, and noticed the bucket had not been touched from his flying lesson. He had a white grid-shaped pattern on his behind. Shaking his head, he faced the three-step-stair, planning to jump over it. Just as he began the leap, he found himself face first on the floor. Sitting up, he put a hand on his cheek, then looked at it.  
  
He had a white, grid pattern on his hand.  
  
Over the intercom, he heard Tris's voice again.  
  
"Do clean my ship before you try anything else."  
  
He glared at the empty hallway, and bent over the bucket, washing his hand. Another hair-raising shock from behind made him turn.  
  
A mechanical hand held a cattle prod, and was waggling a finger at him.  
  
Glaring and muttering angrily, he started scrubbing- only to discover that the amazingly slow-drying bird poop had dried all at once, before he got the water on it. 


End file.
